


The Cat Is Out Of The Bag

by thewritingkoala



Series: Tom & Amy (series of one-shots) [4]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Angst, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gossip, Oral Sex, Possessive Tom Hiddleston, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22083370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala
Summary: Amy wakes up to some shocking news regarding Tom. Will their relationship be over before it's even gone public?
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Tom & Amy (series of one-shots) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/688287
Comments: 7
Kudos: 63





	The Cat Is Out Of The Bag

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because a friend of mine was begging me for some angst and because I've never stopped thinking about Tom & Amy.

Amy opened her eyes, wondering what had woken her this Sunday morning. A moment later, she knew. Her phone dinged repeatedly, alerting her to news. She had - somewhat foolishly but unashamedly - activated alerts on Tom ever since they were an item. After all, what’s a girl to do when fate - in the form of her cat - brings her a famous lover? She’d been a fangirl even before she’d met Tom so checking for updates was in her blood. Tom often shared snippets with her too, even exclusive sneak peeks, selfies and personal insights that the public had no clue of - just as they were clueless about Tom dating her for over a year now.  
Tom had been away for nearly three months now, filming in Italy and France for a new mini series. The much-anticipated season 2 of “The Night Manager” was well on the way and it kept him so busy that they hadn’t seen each other for way too long. He always sent her messages and on most days he called her too, but she missed him like hell. What had started as more of an affair had morphed into a full-fledged relationship and she found herself pining - hah, nice pun there - for him. But she knew she couldn’t cling to him or demand more time. He was Tom freaking Hiddleston, award-winning actor and internet boyfriend, and truth be told, she was over the moon with his latest role.  
Stifling a yawn, she frowned at her phone dinging itself into a frenzy. Had someone released behind-the-scenes footage? Had there been a cast party she didn’t know of?  
With rising anticipation, she pulled her cell closer and opened up her notifications.  
The first headline made her blink, then rub her eyes in incredulity:  
Caught in flagrante delicto - Tom Hiddleston in a sizzling lip lock with co-star Wren Boyd!  
She snorted. Yeah, right. As if. But the second headline was no better:  
How Tom Hiddleston manages the night: Get ready for a glamorous new couple!  
Sitting up straighter, Amy frowned at her phone. There were always rumors floating around. Tom basically only had to look at a woman and the media had them married with two children. She would never get used to that but knew it was inevitable. This, however, sounded pretty serious.  
Biting her lip, she clicked on one of the links…then gaped at the colorful pictures that loaded. One showed Tom and Wren - the willowy redhead who played his love interest in the show - having dinner at a restaurant. They looked cozy but just like friends. The other shots were way more incriminating. Here was Tom, leading the woman down the sidewalk with an arm looped tightly around her waist, her head on his shoulder. And here was Tom, kissing the stunning actress on the mouth, the woman’s hands clutching his jacket labels.  
Bile rising in her throat, Amy stared and stared at the last photo and its grainy but vivid zoomed-in version. This couldn’t be real. Any minute now, she would wake up from a nightmare, scoffing. She blinked, then pinched her own forearm hard and yelped in pain.  
At the foot of the bed, Sir Lancelot stirred and shot her a look of reproach that cats all over the world had perfected. With a huff, he resettled and curled into a ball. Amy didn’t even reach over to pet him, frozen on the spot. The paparazzi snapshot burned itself into her brain, frying her synapses.  
“It can’t be,” she kept muttering to herself. Tom would never do this to her. He was the most loyal and honest person she’d ever met. There was no way in hell he would cheat on her! They loved each other, for heaven’s sake!  
With shaking fingers, Amy made herself scroll down and read the accompanying article of the online tabloid. It seemed Tom and Wren had been dining alone, not with the cast. A ‘source’ described them as lovey-dovey, talked about them enjoying dessert and drinks, being handsy. Scrolling up, she studied the condemning photo again. Tom’s hands were gripping the woman’s arms, his eyes open rather than closed when he kissed Amy. But the two of them were clearly snogging.  
“Fuck!”  
She flopped back down onto the bed, the cell slipping out of her fingers. This was a nightmare. Her stomach churning, Amy tried to make sense of things. Had his PR team or someone else persuaded him to this, for publicity’s sake or to market the upcoming series? But why would he agree to staging something like this? And if something like that had been planned, why the hell hadn’t he told her?  
Picking up her phone again, Amy masochistically made herself look at every single article and picture until she felt like either crying or vomiting. In the end, she did neither. Mechanically, she got out of bed, washed up but didn’t bother to change out of her pajama. She filled Sir Lancelot’s bowls, gulped down a piping hot cup of coffee, and plonked herself on the couch of her tiny apartment. Listlessly surfing the TV channels, she willed herself not to dwell on the matter but didn’t succeed.  
Her phone rang, the cheerful tune of “Bare Necessities” from The Jungle Book announcing a call from Tom. She glanced at the phone, lifted her hand and let it drop back down. Right now, she couldn’t face a conversation with Tom. Just couldn’t. Part of her refused to believe the rumors, despite the glaring evidence. Tom was NOT a cheater. But she was in no state to talk to him right now. She’d end up saying things she would regret, she was too emotional.  
Amy had always known that something like this could happen. Tom and she had agreed to keep their relationship secret, for privacy’s sake. She wasn’t too keen to receive hate on social media or be dissected by the press, and he wasn’t keen on losing his precious anonymity and stolen moments of bliss with her. So naturally, she had steeled herself for whatever the media might cook up about his dating life. But nothing could have prepared her for the damning kiss.  
Her phone rang and rang, then started vibrating with messages. It wasn’t just Tom but her friend Anita too, the one person who knew about them because she’d accidentally walked in on them once. Anita had sworn secrecy. She must’ve seen the headlines too. Sniffling, Amy made a decision. She switched her cell to airplane mode, turned up the volume of the movie on television, and shut herself off to the world.

* * *

It was evening now, and Amy just wanted to crawl into bed and forget this day had ever happened. She’d barely eaten more than a few forkfuls of cold pasta, drunk too many cups of overly sweet coffee, and whiled away the time binge-watching a Netflix series and snuggling with her cat.  
But no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts wouldn’t stay away from Tom and the news. Part of her still refused to believe the story. It was so unlike the Tom she’d come to know and love. But then again, couples separated all the time. What if he’d fallen out of love with her, in part because of the long separation? Or what if the City of Love had addled his feelings, heightened his loneliness and tempted him to a fling? No, it couldn’t be. Not her Tom. Even if he’d stopped loving her - she shivered at the thought, feeling like a hollowed-out husk - he would surely talk things through.  
Muttering ‘fuck it’ under her breath, Amy wriggled out of the fluffy blanket she’d cocooned herself in. She woke her phone to life and stared at the dozens of missed calls. Hauling in a deep breath, she punched speed dial and prayed she wouldn’t start bawling or shouting the moment she heard Tom’s voice. But he wasn’t reachable, and the knot in her stomach tightened some more. She should’ve answered his calls or at least messaged him this morning…  
Feeling the sting of unshed tears, Amy gave herself a mental pep talk. She composed a message to Tom, telling him they needed to talk. Then she dragged herself into the kitchen, wolfed down a tasteless sandwich and made herself go through the motions of cleaning. A long, hot shower later, she slid into bed and pulled the covers over her head. There’d been no new pics over the course of the day. No statements from Tom’s or Wren’s side to either deny or admit the relationship allegations. What did that mean?

* * *

Amy woke up with a gasp, feeling disoriented and a mess. She stared wildly around her, wondering whether Sir Lancelot had started yowling. It was dark and quiet, and a squinty-eyed glance at her phone display showed it was barely 3 am. Loud knocking startled her into dropping her cell. With a curse, she scrambled to pick it up, got entangled in the sheets, and nearly faceplanted on the bedroom carpet. The knocking persisted, turning into a cacophony when the doorbell rang too.  
“Amy? Amy, for fuck’s sake, if you don’t open up I swear I will kick the door open.”  
Oh. Oh god. Tom. He was here? He was here!  
Amy sat on the floor, willing her brain and body to work. Had he taken a flight from Paris to reach her, in the middle of the tight shooting schedule? Her mind scampered back to the photos and she swallowed around a big lump in her throat.  
Disentangling herself from the twisted sheets, she shouted ‘I’m coming’ because Tom sounded desperate enough to make good on the threat. The shouting and ringing stopped, the knocking didn’t.  
With a sigh, Amy walked to the front door and unlocked it. Tom stood precariously close, a fist raised from pounding at the wood, his expression thunderous yet his eyes panic-filled. His jawline was scruffy, his hair - short and blondish again for the role - disheveled, his clothes - burgundy sweater, dark jeans - rumpled. He looked like hell, and she felt like hell. What a pair they made. Only, were they still a pair?  
Something in her face must’ve given her anguish and anger and confusion away because Tom cursed a low ‘fuck’ and barreled right into the apartment. He kicked the door shut, dropped his knapsack, and reached for her.  
Amy shuffled back on instinct, hugging herself instead of letting him embrace her. The hurt that manifested on Tom’s drawn face slashed at her insides. But she was hurting too.  
They looked at each other for a moment, and she saw a tiny muscle tick in Tom’s clenched jaw. A hand rose to rub the back of his neck, and then he leaned back against the door with a thunk.  
“Amy. I’m so sorry for this whole mess.”  
He certainly looked and sounded sorry. More than that. Worried. She wanted nothing more than to fall into his embrace and make her forget. He was here. That had to mean something, right? But she stood her ground.  
“And what is ‘this whole mess’, as you so succinctly put it?” she heard herself ask in a brittle voice scratchy from crying herself to sleep. Tom’s eyes were red-rimmed too; from crying or from lack of sleep during the flight?  
He frowned, opened his mouth twice and closed it again. She heard him mutter another curse under his breath.  
“You’ve seen the pictures, the articles.”  
It wasn’t a question, but she gave him one tight nod, pressing her lips together so she wouldn’t hurl hurtful words at him.  
“It’s not what it seems,” Tom insisted, his tone earnest, his gaze pleading.  
She felt a mirthless laugh bubble up but forced it back down.  
“Isn’t that what they all say?”  
“They?”  
“Men who cheat on their girlfriends.”  
Tom reared back as if she’d slapped him, and his expression made her heart shatter into a million pieces that shredded her insides.  
“Su-surely you don’t believe that. Amy! Tell me you don’t think I would ever do that to you!”  
He reached out, gripped her shoulder almost bruisingly and shook her once.  
Amy felt a sob rise like a hiccup but swallowed that down too. Fighting past the righteous anger, she dug for the love she felt, for the faith she had in him, in them.  
“No. No, I don’t believe you cheated on me. But… Fuck it, Tom, truth be told, I don’t know what to believe. I mean, those photos…”  
His fingers flexed, causing a moment of pain. Then his grip gentled and his hand trailed down her arm to tangle his fingers with hers, squeezing once.  
“I swear to you on all that I have and all that I am that I didn’t cheat on you.” He sought out her gaze in that manner he had, as if he and she were the only two people on earth. “Do you believe me?”  
In her heart, she did. Her head still wanted an explanation though. Amy whispered a broken ‘yes’, and he pulled her a fraction closer. His other hand reached for her too and he entwined their fingers as if he was as desperate for a connection as she was.  
“Good. That’s good.” Tom heaved a sigh, much less eloquent than she was used to. “I owe you an apology nevertheless. I should never have let it come this far.”  
They stared at each other again.  
“What happened?”  
Tom grimaced, his brows drawing together in a scowl. “Wren had a difficult day. She received some awful family news and was looking for someone who’d listen. I was that someone. And somehow, we ended up having dinner together.”  
Amy grimaced too. Of course, the actress would seek out Tom with his perpetual kindness and his supreme listening skills. She couldn’t shake her jealousy though.  
Tom hastened on, his words falling faster and faster as he clung to her hands. “I swear, it wasn’t like the media made it out to be. We weren’t handsy or lovey-dovey. We just talked, ate. I tried to cheer her up. She had too much to drink to drown her sorrow. And then one thing led to another. By the end of the evening, Wren was so drunk that I accompanied her back to the trailers. She was barely able to walk.”  
The pictures appeared in front of her eyes, of him holding the woman so close. So he’d only been steadying her?  
“But…you kissed,” she said, the accusatory tone making Tom flinch.  
“Well, sort of. It was an accident and didn’t last more than the second it took for some presumptuous asshole to snap a pic. Wren was thanking me before saying goodnight. She leaned in for a peck on the cheek and was so uncoordinated that her lips landed on mine. Please believe me, that’s the truth. I swear to God. She caught me off guard but I moved away immediately and we laughed it off and parted ways. Nothing happened.”  
It sounded so much like an excuse a cheating man might fabricate…yet also so much like a dilemma Tom would get himself into. And in her heart of hearts, she knew he wouldn’t lie to her like this. If he wanted to leave her, he’d tell her and do so, and he’d expect the same of you.  
“You can call Wren and ask her,” Tom added somewhat pleadingly, giving her that famed Hiddleston puppy dog look.  
“I don’t need to,” she said quietly. “I believe you.”  
His shoulders sagged in visible relief, and his hands tugged her another step closer.  
“But then why no statement from you?” Amy asked, feeling her resolve melt and giving in to relief as well. They’d stuck by each other through thick and thin for over twelve months; they would weather this too.  
Tom cleared his throat. Wait a minute, was he blushing a bit or were her puffy eyes fooling her. What now?  
“Actually… That’s something else I want to talk to you about, Ames. What do you say, shall we go public?”  
At her gasp, he hurriedly reassured her. “I mean, we don’t have to. I can just have Luke send out an official statement and coordinate it with Wren’s publicist. But I was waiting with it because I thought this might be our opportunity. Shall we finally drop the bomb on the public?”  
Amy willed her brain cells to work, processing his suggestion. She couldn’t hide forever, could she? What if some paparazzi sniffed blood at last and cottoned on to Tom secretly dating her? Did she want a kissing pic of them spread out in gory gloss one day or did she want to make a statement? Tom’s thumbs were stroking her wrists, and the soothing, familiar gesture grounded her.  
She looked at him, at the first smile of this evening tentatively curving his thin lips and lighting his stormy blue eyes.  
“Amy, I’m not suggesting this only because of the gossip. I’ve been wanting to bring this up for the past few months - but in person, not on the phone. And I’ll understand if you say no.”  
There he was, the considerate Tom she loved with all her might.  
“Let’s do it,” she said, smiling somewhat tearfully because she’d been emotional all day. “Give them their money’s worth.”  
“There’s my girl.” Tom’s smile widened. With a last tug, he brought her flush against him. “We’ll think of the details tomorrow, shall we, darling?”  
When she nodded and went willingly into his embrace, Tom lowered his head and nuzzled her hair, her cheek. He inhaled deeply, tightening his hold. His nose brushed hers and then his lips sought hers out. The kiss was soft and gentle but seemingly went on forever. When Amy made a low sound of surrender at the back of her throat, Tom angled his head and took them from 0 to 100. The kiss possessive, heated, drenched in an urgency that hit her out of nowhere and echoed in every cell.  
“God, how I missed you,” Tom whispered against her neck when he finally ended their connection. His mouth slid over her throat, latched onto her pulse point in a sucking kiss that surely left a hickey.  
“I missed you too.” It came out as a whimper and she realized she was rubbing herself against him, her hands roaming in a frenzy to reclaim him.  
“I’m so glad it isn’t over between us,” Tom said when he drew back a fraction. “I was terrified when you didn’t react to my calls and messages; I had to come and make things right. I’m yours, Amy. Yours alone.”  
She basked in the fierce statement, then rose on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. Tom’s hips bucked into hers as their tongues tangled. An instant later, his big hands splayed under her butt and lifted her effortlessly. Legs slung around his hip, she let him carry her into the bedroom.  
They hit the mattress in a tumble of limbs and fumbling hands, tearing at clothes until fabric ripped. Frantic to get to skin, they nearly fell off the bed until Tom pinned her down with his weight and touched his fill. His hands were everywhere at once, and whatever he couldn’t reach, he caressed with his lips and aroused with his teeth.  
Within minutes, Amy had reached fever pitch, writhing and arching and begging breathlessly. Whispering a mixture of filth and adoration, Tom slid her drenched panties aside and sank his fingers into her swollen folds. As if he’d last touched her just yesterday, he found all the right spots with unerring precision, relentless in his pursuit to give her pleasure. Sliding deep inside her, he latched onto a taut nipple and sent her over the edge. She clenched around him, greedy for more than the two long and dexterous digits, moaning through her almost painful release. Angling his wrist, Tom coated his thumb in her slickness and drew circles on her sensitive clit to make her go over again.  
“Mine,” he hissed, prolonging her bliss. With a parting nip to her breast, he slithered down her trembling body and wedged her legs apart with his wide shoulders. She barely had time to breathe before he buried his mouth in her soaked cleft and licked her to heaven and back.  
Amy was still coming down from her high when she cracked her eyes open and salivated at Tom stripping off his black boxer briefs. Her hips bucked up, seeking contact although he’d already brought her so much pleasure. She needed him inside her like she needed air to breathe.  
“Now,” she begged but Tom suddenly stilled, a devilish glint in his eyes with their pupils blown wide.  
“No.”  
She was about to yell ‘what the fuck, Hiddleston?!’ when he grabbed her and maneuvered her body as if she was a limp, light doll despite the curves on her petite frame. All of a sudden, her world shifted and she found herself sitting astride Tom’s lap, his gorgeous body sprawled out beneath her. His fingers flexed into her waist, then let go.  
“I inadvertently made you feel as if I’m not yours,” he said hoarsely, his voice a deep, raspy rumble that made her inner muscles flutter greedily. “Now I intend to remedy that. I’m all yours. Do with me whatever you want. Use me.”  
Holy hell, could this man get any hotter? Suppressing a whimper, Amy debated what to do. She had half a mind to tell him to hold on to the headboard and be her boy toy, but the problem with that was that she wanted his touch. Craved it.  
Repositioning so she could slide her wet cunt along his rigid length and make him curse through clenched teeth, Amy took hold of both his hands. She placed one on her breast, squeezing and making him fondle the sensitized flesh, pinch the peak. The other hand she placed on her butt so he could give her more leverage when she rubbed herself all over him. Eyes dark and hooded, Tom watched her rock and grind until his shaft was glistening and she was teetering on the verge of another orgasm. His fingertips brushed over the crease between her ass cheeks, his fingers plucked at her nipple, and he stared right into her soul. When she moaned wantonly, his tongue moistened his lips and his hips rose to thrust against her slick flesh.  
When Amy could bear it no longer, she repeated her claim to him. “Mine.”  
Lifting herself, she lined his cock up and sank down inch by thick inch until she was impaled on him and stretched to the maximum. Tom’s hand slid from her breast down to press lightly against her lower stomach and feel himself embedded inside her. Both of them groaned at the sensation, and then she started to move.  
True to his word, Tom let her control the speed and how deep she took him, and she relished the burn in her thighs and the feeling of power. Watching his face contort in agonized bliss when she squeezed her inner muscles around his length turned her on. Listening to his stuttering breath and strangled moans turned her on. Redirecting his hand so that her clit bumped into his fingers with every slide down turned her on.  
She was burning up alive and relishing every blazing hot moment of it.  
“You’re mine, right?” she barely managed to force out.  
Tom nodded frantically, his sweaty brow creased in a frown.  
“Then you’ll give me everything. Come for me.”  
His Adam’s apple bobbed with a convulsive swallow. “B-but…you…”  
“No.” She clamped down on him, causing him to whimper. “You first. Your release is mine.”  
“Fuuuck, you’ll be the death of me,” Tom cursed, only to moan again when she tightened around his hard length.  
It took only a few more grinding rolls of her hips to send him over the edge, and feeling him lose himself in her made Amy climax one last time too. She collapsed onto his body in a boneless heap, their pants slicing through the quiet night.  
Wow, make-up sex sure lived up to the hype… Glowing with contentment, Amy allowed Tom to shift them to their sides and cuddle her close. Tomorrow would bring another challenge when they let the relationship cat out of the bag. But with their love for each other, no challenge would ever be too big.


End file.
